"GET OUT! And don't bring me any
more orders until I get these
filled!" Gary Minkert said in mock exasperation
to the student salesman who
had just brought in a list of orders for
the cup which Minkert had designed as
a souvenir of Texas Agricultural and
Mechanical College.

Minkert, a sign painter in Bryan,
Texas, looked at the cup which he had
created and felt as if he had made a
Frankenstein monster. The thing was
growing, reaching into every corner of
his sign shop, crowding him, pushing
him, threatening to absorb all his time
and his business. That was when he decided
something had to be done—and
he set up making the cups as a separate
business.

Of course, it had not been planned
that way. But then, profitable hobbies
often start out to be only pleasant pastimes
with inconspicuous beginnings.
That was certainly true of the cup business—it
sort of "happened" and then
grew like a sprouting teen-ager.

Minkert, whose nickname and sign
signature is Mink, had his first acquaintance
with modeling clay when he
enrolled in a recreation class in ceramics
with his daughter, Patti. His three-year-old
son, Jesse, in typical little boy fashion,
had been demanding and getting all
of his dad's attention, and suddenly
Mink realized that the daughter was
sixteen. In looking around for a project
that he could share with her, he had to
consider her interest in creative art. The
six-weeks' ceramic course in modeling
and coils offered an opportunity for
them to start a project together as beginners,
and to build a common interest
in the evening sessions that followed.

At the end of the course, Minkert
bought twenty-five pounds of clay, took
it to his sign shop, and in free moments
continued to experiment. He directed
his Boy Scout troop in modeling during
their handcraft lessons. Many of the
articles were worked over and over into
various objects. Some of the creations
showed originality and imagination and
were set aside. Nothing was fired because
he had no way to fire it, but after
a few months he liked some of the work
and realized that it deserved to be made
permanent.

"I want a kiln," Mink said to his
wife, Hazel, "to fire these crazy do-dads."

This not so gentle hint just before
Christmas, 1951, was passed on to Santa
Claus, who obligingly left a 13½-by-13½-inch
hexagon kiln in the paint
shop behind Minkert's house. It was immediately
employed firing Boy Scout
projects and Mink's crazy do-dads.

VISITORS TO the shop often included
students from Texas Agricultural
and Mechanical College, which is five
miles from Bryan. Texas A&M is the
largest military school in the United
States, having graduated more officers
than any school in the nation, West
Point included. Compulsory military
training has been in force since the college
was founded in 1876 and every
student except war veterans has been a
uniformed cadet and member of the
R.O.T.C. organization. (This year, for
the first time, it was optional.) As a
reward for their four years of R.O.T.C.
training, all graduates receive the commission
of second lieutenant and remain
reserve officers. By the time they are
seniors, many students hold high commissions
in the cadet corps, are highly
esteemed by underclassmen, and have a
strong prejudice in favor of all things
A&M or military.

One day George Rush, a senior student
from the college, came into the
sign shop. He looked at a row of
ceramic objects on display, and was attracted
by a planter which was fashioned
like a man's head, but it was unusual
in that the left side of the face
was smiling while the right side was
scowling. The student said:

"You know, this thing looks just like
'Old Sarge' on the side that's frowning."
He continued to turn it, looking at the
left side which was smiling and then at
the right side which was scowling.

"It sure is a funny mug," he commented.

"It's not a mug," Minkert corrected.
"It's a planter."

"I mean, this guy's mug—his face—like
Old Sarge." He thought a minute
and then said, "Say! Do you suppose you
could make a mug out of this? I mean a
cup, with a handle?"

"Well, yes, I guess I could. Why?"
asked Minkert.

"If you could make a few and put
Texas Aggies on the handle, I'd like
to try to sell them out at college," the
student proposed, and there was a gleam
like a dollar mark in his eye.

Old Sarge is symbolic to Texas A&M
students, just as pictures of Uncle Sam
are to Americans. Old Sarge is pictured
in cartoons in the campus daily newspaper,
the Battalion, and on decals
which the cadets stick on their car windows.
He was originated several years
ago by a student, Pete Tumlinson, who
is now a syndicated cartoonist in New
York, and has remained a tradition of
the corps ever since. There may never
have been such a sergeant in flesh, but
there certainly is one in the imagination
of every Aggie.

INSPIRED BY this tradition and Rush's
proposition, Minkert went to work
on the project after his shop was closed
that night. Using a five-pound batch of
modeling clay, he fashioned the solid
shape of a mug six inches tall and 3½
inches in diameter. A big handle was
attached to the back. Then he began
shaping the front of it like a face, pushing
it in or out with his fingers, using a
ceramic tool when needed, adding clay
where necessary to form a chin, nose
and ears. On the left side, he turned the
corner of the mouth up into a smile and
put a crow's foot wrinkle at the corner
of the eye. On the right side, he pulled
the cheek muscle and the mouth down
to simulate a scowl. At the base, he
molded the clay, to form a collar such
as the military "spit and polish" requires.

He had, then, one solid heavy piece
of clay whose outside contours resembled
the large cup he wanted to create,
and from which he would make a plaster
mold so that he could duplicate the
cup if any orders came for it. Thin
strips of tooling copper two inches wide
called shims were pushed into the model
where he wished the mold to separate
at center front and back. It was placed
on a plywood base, and two pieces of
linoleum were placed around it. The
linoleum wall was two inches taller than
the mug and at least two inches from
any part of it. To prevent plaster from
leaking, clay was used to seal the bottom
where the linoleum rested on the
plywood base, and at the seams where
the two pieces of linoleum joined.

This set-up would make two sections
of the three which would be required
for the mug mold. Obviously, an opening
would be necessary, so at this point
it was provided for by shaping a solid cylinder
of clay three inches in diameter
and three inches long. This cylinder was
placed with one end resting on the top
of the cup model and the other end protruding
above the linoleum frame.

TO MIX the plaster for making the
mold, a two-gallon bucket was used.
Minkert poured three quarts of water
into the bucket; then molding plaster
was sifted into it until it ceased to settle
to the bottom and a little remained on
top showing that the proper amount of
plaster had been added to the water.
This produced about one and one-half
gallons of liquid plaster. Using both
hands, Minkert broke up any lumps that
might have formed. He worked carefully,
not stirring the mixture to avoid
creating air bubbles. The liquid plaster
was then poured over the solid clay
model, filling the linoleum form to
within ½ inch of the top. Mink jarred
out any bubbles by gently rocking the
plywood base.

The next step was to make the third
part of the mold. After the plaster was
allowed to set a few hours, it hardened.
The cylinder of clay used to create an
opening in the top was removed and
the whole form was turned upside
down, the plywood was lifted off, and
the linoleum was peeled away. The rigid
plaster which had been on the bottom
but was now on top, was coated with
a commercial solution called a mold
lubricant. This solution would prevent
the first two parts of the mold from
sticking to the third. The visible bottom
of the cup was gently scraped to
make it concave and give a more professional
appearance to the ones to be
made from its impression. Linoleum
was again used, being secured around
the plaster so that it came three inches
above it, and liquid plaster was poured
into it to a depth of two inches. When
this second pouring had hardened, the
linoleum was removed, the three parts
of the mold were separated, and the
original clay model was taken out. The
mold was carefully checked for undercuts
or bits of clay that remained, so
that blemishes would not be left on the
mugs. The three parts of the plaster
mold thus fashioned were ready to make
a sample cup and to duplicate it if and
when the orders came.

To make a cup, Mink placed the
three sections of the plaster mold together
with the opening on top, and
made them secure with rubber bands.
Ceramic slip, mixed according to directions
on a package of clay flour, was
poured into the mold. The plaster began
to absorb moisture from the slip
immediately. That mixture nearest the
mold hardened first, and the longer it
stood the more it absorbed and the
thicker the rigid portion grew. When
slip approximately ¼ inch thick was
firm (in about fifteen minutes) the
mold was tilted so that the remainder
of the slip was poured back into the
container. This left the ¼ inch thick
shape of the mug clinging to the walls
of the mold, which was upturned to
drain for about twenty minutes. The
mold was carefully opened, and there
was Old Sarge!

The top of his head was trimmed
level, and the ridge down the center of
his nose which was left by the seam in
the mold was gently scraped with a
ceramic knife and smoothed with a
damp sponge. When it was dry, the
mug was painted with appropriate
underglaze colors, fired, glazed, and
fired again.

A FEW days later, when Rush returned,
Minkert had the half smiling,
half scowling mug standing for exhibit
with the mold to make others
sitting near by. They agreed that the
student was to give him $1.50 for every
one that he got an order for. In a few
days, he returned with an order for
twelve more.

In an effort to improve the original,
Mink went to a military store and
bought one each of the eighteen different
brass collar ornaments used by
the cadets to indicate the military organizations
to which they belonged, such
as infantry, air force, engineers, etc. To
an Aggie or a former Aggie the military
organization to which he belongs
is second in importance to the college.
Each outfit is the "best"—if you doubt
that, just ask an ordnance man if he
belongs to the signal corps!

With this knowledge of the student
body in mind, Minkert then rolled out
a 3/8-inch
slab of clay on a plaster bat
and pressed each of the ornaments into
it face down, to form press molds. This
he fired at cone .05 and he had a bisque
mold for making impressions of the
collar ornaments that would last indefinitely.
By using different insignia,
the cups would be more personalized
and have greater sales appeal for the
5,000-man military corps.

To applique an ornament to the mug
collar, Minkert would take a small bit
of clay in his fingers, roll it into a ball
and press it into the proper insignia of
the press mold. It would flatten out on
the back but have a military emblem on
the front. With a ceramic tool, he scored
(scratched) the flat back of the emblem
and also the place on the collar where
it belonged. With a small brush, he
dipped into the ceramic slip and
swabbed the scored parts of the emblem
and the collar. The slip acted as glue,
and when the tiny piece of clay was
pressed down against the collar and
smoothed at the edges, it was on to stay.
Now, in addition to looking like Old
Sarge, and having Texas Aggies on the
handle, the mugs also had different
collar ornaments. What more could anyone
ask of a mug?

THE STUDENT salesman picked up
the batch of twelve and returned
Friday afternoon with the money, and
the names and outfits of 150 more
Aggies.

"I told them," he calmly stated, "that
the cups would be delivered in ten
days."

One hundred and fifty in ten days!
That meant that the lone mold was
sadly inadequate. That meant that more
molds were needed and right then. Since
it takes two or three weeks to cure a
mold properly, a short cut was obviously
needed. Minkert made four
more molds at once, set them on a work
table under a battery of infra-red lamps,
and he and his assistant, Charles Hines,
turned them every few hours, night and
day, during the week end.

"Start pouring!" Minkert said the
following Monday morning.

Again the infra-red lamps were used,
this time shining down into the cups
to dry them faster. As soon as the slip
was removed from a mold it was placed
under the heat. In this way, he got as
many as eighteen a day out of one mold,
whereas all he had read on the subject
advised about three a day.

Business had to proceed as usual; and
since among other contracts, Minkert
painted all the weekly display signs for
a chain of ninety grocery stores in Texas
and Louisiana, he and Hines were forced
to keep jumping between the mugs and
the signs.

As the handles were too large to pour
solid, they were hollow when removed
from the molds. Thus, holes existed
where the two parts of the handle joined
the mug. This was corrected while they
were still damp by "plugging," which
meant taking a small piece of clay, scoring
it, swabbing it and the opening
with slip, and forcing it into the hollow
handle to seal it off. It was
smoothed, and hardened as the cup did.

(Incidentally, Minkert considers
"plugging" a must for any ceramics that
may be used to hold food or drink, as
they cannot be properly washed otherwise
and may attract tiny ants or
roaches. As a judge in ceramic shows,
he has graded off for this oversight on
creations that were otherwise excellent.)

By referring to the list of 150 orders,
he could tell how many belonged to
each outfit and he took bits of clay,
pushed them into the proper ornament
of the press mold and appliqued them
to the collars.

Then followed painting on an assembly
line basis. About twenty were lined
up at a time and painted with underglaze
colors on the green ware, putting
in the proper colors for a face. On each
handle was painted "Texas Aggies" and
the date of graduation such as '54 or '56.
For speed, Minkert used his air brush,
applying one color at a time to all the
cups and then using another color. They
were then bisque fired, dipped in glaze,
and refired.

"It was not as easy as it sounds,"
Minkert says. "Of course we had a lot
to learn, and all of it the hard way. Since
I knew of no one who had tried such a
project, I had to experiment. When the
green ware blew up in the kiln, as it
did several times, I had to figure why
and try and improve the slip. When the
light meter began to growl, I realized
that it was carrying too heavy a load
for its ancient vintage, and had the
light company put a new one in."

Nevertheless, on the tenth day, 150
Texas Aggie cups were exchanged for
$225. Mink immediately bought another
kiln with $75 of the money.

THE STUDENT-salesman, who has the
earmarks of being a genius at promotion,
then sublet his contract to three
other students. He paid the $1.50 wholesale
price agreed on for all orders, but
by retailing the mugs for $3 each, he
permitted his undersalesmen to keep
fifty cents of every order they received
and he kept $1. Naturally, with this arrangement,
he encouraged the boys to
sell and Minkert to produce.

Both kilns were put into capacity production,
being fired alternately. There
was no leisure time now, and from
every shelf and space in the shop a face
peered, and it seemed that the smile had
turned to a smirk and the scowl to a
sneer. The sign business had to go on,
and orders were stacking up.

That was when the new business began.
Stages of growth and enlargement
followed in due succession. The big
front porch of the Minkert home was
enclosed with plate glass to create a display
room for ceramics. Soon after, the
family was moved to another home and
the entire nine-room house was converted
into a ceramic shop. Obviously,
someone was needed to run the shop,
and as Hazel had been learning the business
along with her husband, she employed
a full time maid at home and
took over the shop. Many molds of different
kinds were bought; fifty original
ones were made, and green ware became
part of the stock.

Short cuts were discovered and introduced
whenever a need arose. For instance,
in making the green ware, mixing
the slip in quantity became a problem.
Minkert obtained a second-hand
washing machine and converted it to
rotary motion by switching the wringer
gear over to the dasher, and presto—a
good slip mixer!

Partitions were removed from the
four front rooms of the house, making
a big display room. Imported Mexican
novelties were added. Artcraft materials
of all kind were gradually introduced,
and the name was changed from a
ceramic to an artcraft shop.

ONE UNUSUAL feature of the Minkerts'
establishment is a work center
with a long table and chairs. On one
evening a week, Hazel and Mink give
instruction in ceramics. (They sell supplies
for ceramics, of course.) Another
instructor teaches a class in china painting
at the work center. (They sell china
and painting supplies, of course.) On
Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, Mrs.
Vic Lindley gives lessons in various kinds
of handcraft. (They sell handcraft materials.
But of course!)

Fortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Minkert
have a splendid location on a busy street
near a shopping center. Being on a corner
lot, they have ample parking space
for both the sign business and the artcraft
shop. A considerable investment
of time and money has gone into the
venture, and as in any new undertaking
there have been times when they have
wondered if they have not overreached
themselves. But it has paid, and has continued
to grow from its beginning. The
most recent expansion was the addition
of a complete line of paint.

Hazel and Mink are frank to acknowledge
that nothing ever made a greater
profit than wholesale production of the
Aggie mug, considering the amount invested.
The idea is simple and one that
could be used profitably by anyone living
near a college. It would not have
to be a mug, though the fact that many
people collect them makes them an attractive
medium. The novelty theme on
the mug could cater to some feature of
the school for which the sales were
slanted.

In fact, it need not be restricted to
school souvenirs at all. Any institution
(barring perhaps penal institutions and
insane asylums), has many a potential
customer who would like a memento of
his sojourn there. An air base, a summer
camp, a vacation resort, or whatever
you have near your home town
could be the inspiration for your souvenir
mug. And who knows, maybe you
will discover even as Minkert did, that
you have started a big headache—I
mean a thriving business.